


Crickets, Hornets, and Rabbits

by PseudoFox



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Anthropomorphic, Fantasy, Furry, Gen, Major Original Character(s), Minor Original Character(s), Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-31
Updated: 2017-07-31
Packaged: 2018-12-09 06:32:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11663553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PseudoFox/pseuds/PseudoFox
Summary: A crowd of young rabbits grows ever more restless before Nick Wilde, even after the fox has traveled far out of Zootopia to see them. His visit to see Judy Hopps' extended family hasn't turned out quite as well as he'd hoped, but he still aims to entertain them with an adventurous yet eccentric story. Still, getting the message across to them may be harder than he thinks.





	Crickets, Hornets, and Rabbits

The small, lanky rabbit shoved his face against the window. Hot air shot out onto the cold glass as the torrential rain fell outside. The rabbit's drooping ears slipped down upon the cloth curtains, slowly but surely, and finally came to a rest on the windowsill. That prompted a large sigh.

A burst of anxious moans followed a second afterward behind the rabbit. The small bunny flipped around and bounced onto the rug, joining his many cousins. Boredom plastered across their young faces.

"I don't care if it's pouring out there," a heavyset bunny with thick glasses remarked.

"Yeah," called out his brother behind him.

"All of the electricity and everything else should be working!"

_"Yeah!"_

"How long has your family lived here, or what?" the lanky rabbit asked a pair of older, taller bunnies. Without even waiting for an answer, he went on. "There's been a sign saying 'Hopps' outside for like a million years or something, so you ought to have some kind of back-up or something, right?"

"It's... ugh, it's complicated," one of them quietly replied.

"This just _reeks,_ " another rabbit moaned before idly bouncing around the burrow's massive living room, "without any power, it's like torture!"

"Alright," Nick Wilde chimed in, appearing from behind a half-open door, "we all know that complaining won't fix anything."

The bunnies gave the fox their full attention, yet none of them said a word at first. Nick's eyes scanned along the fuzzy faces of the tired and frustrated little ones before him. The fox slapped his paws against his plain pair of shorts before taking in a little breath. He took a seat at the end of a couch beside a big bookshelf and let himself lean back.

"How about," Nick began, sliding an arm out in front of the haphazard array of pastel-colored books, "we read—"

_"Boring!"_

The sheer volume of the outburst caught Nick by surprise. He shifted himself up a lot straighter on the couch, holding his arms neatly against his sides. Meanwhile, the group of little ones hopped about in place indignantly. "Hold on," Nick muttered, "there's—"

"We've all heard those like a thousand times!"

"More like a million!"

"They're all— totally, like— for babies anyway!"

"She's right!"

"Okay!" Nick interjected. As he watched the young rabbits quiet down for a moment, he patted the spot on the couch beside him, hoping that least one of them would jump beside him. None of them took up his offer. "Well, how about we think outside of the box, maybe?"

"Be creative!" The lanky bunny from before leaped over to Nick's side. Something in what he'd said unlocked her subconscious mind— her expression had flashed to something like anticipation. She brushed around her ears beside a big pink ribbon before tapping them against the wall behind her. "I like it!"

"Make up my own story, eh?" Nick asked, raising an eyebrow.

A few rabbits in the group made murmurs of approval, but most stared out blankly. The fox let himself slide to the side on the couch for a bit gathering determination nonetheless. He closed his eyes, smiled, and then slipped an arm around the lanky bunny beside him.

"I've got an idea. Let me begin by taking us way back in time. Yet it's a place a lot like this, getting pelted in terrible rain and kind of stranded too."

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

The little island known as Avalon looked quite a lot like Bunnyburrow. It had rolling hills, rocky caverns, rows of trees, babbling brooks, and all kinds of things that would be great to have a nice country home. Yet there were no rabbits to put a home there in Avalon. In fact, no mammals lived there at all.

No beavers dammed the rivers. No squirrels climbed the trees for nuts. No bunnies hopped around exploring the fields. Instead, the island was a place of tiny creatures. Ants, butterflies, crickets, grasshoppers, spiders, and all of the rest spread across the land.

I think none of you are old enough where this sounds disgusting— making you want to reach for a nearby bottle of spray-cleaner. In fact, I'll be that you're all curious. You'll be even more interested when I go on.

Nobody knows why, but some kind of magic existed back in those days. All kinds of special, wonderful powers that couldn't be explained— let alone controlled— filled Avalon in the time before mammals. The tiny creatures that lived there never had a reason to question all this: as far as they knew, breathing out a bit of magic was as natural as making a little yawn.

Usually, we think of these small things living in constant danger. Yet they had nobody there to whack their webs with a broom, step on their anthills with a sneaker, or chop off their leafy branches with an ax. Nothing of the sort ever even popped up on their minds. The tiny ones flourished. The sun shone out, day after day, and the wind never seemed to blow quite too fast. When it did rain, which happened only just so often, nothing too important ever seemed to get washed away.

Does it sound too perfect? Well, I must say, it didn't feel that way to the crickets. Sun rise and sun set, they all made their beautiful sounds as they should. Oh, sure, they had no problem doing that. Exploring Avalon's lush forests gave them such joy that not a one ever felt bored. That wasn't an issue. Food? They ate their fill. Neighbors? Oh, from the tiniest flies to the biggest, highest-flying butterflies, they were all adored. That wasn't it.

Work? Ah, now we're getting somewhere. See, while their hopping, scampering friends on the island usually spent their time playing, the crickets had an important mission. We all know how we hear their wonderful, strong sounds before the rains start to fall, don't we? And things start up again after the skies have cleared?

Our crickets make their plans based on the rain. Yet Avalon's crickets... planned the rain. Yes, you heard that right.

They all had their own names with their own dreams, fears, hopes, and more, just like every one of us, as you'd expect. Yet the crickets were still of two different kinds. Like the big stripe running across a racing car, the crickets all had a colorful mark from the tips of their beginnings to the last bits of their ends. It all seemed to make sense to them. Like left and right, near and far, up and down, and the other ways in which the world worked, they came in blues and reds.

The blues? They played a soft, smooth sound. Long and mellow... like letting out a full breath into a big clarinet. When enough of these crickets got together, it was time for a drizzle. Avalon needed a rain— the weather that dripped across leaves, slipped down soil, and softened up wood.

The reds? They played a loud, strong sound. Tough and quick... like slamming your paws against a big pair of cymbals. When enough of these crickets got together, it was time for a downpour. Avalon needed a rain— the weather that bathed seeds, filled pools, and soaked stones.

Nature needed both. In balance, it all worked out. When they all sensed the need for a massive downpour, the big, gravel-coated reservoirs going dry, then the Reds had their time to shine. When they simply felt the budding tulips and shifting reeds getting a little thirsty, the Blues did what they needed to do. And so it was.

One day, a group of blues got an idea in their heads. About the reds? Oh, no, they usually got along. No, the blues had gotten a bit frustrated with all of the rest of them. The other blues? I'm talking about the rest of the tiny creatures all over— the flippant flies, the sarcastic spiders, the touchy termites, and all the like.

An idea, good or bad, is often like a big spark. It can sputter up into the air and vanish in less than a second. It can also shoot out and start up a sudden flame. As the saying goes, while it takes one tree to make a thousand matches, it takes one match to burn a thousand trees.

Before long, all of the blues had come to an agreement. They deserved to be appreciated. It only seemed natural. While other tiny ones spent their days in pure play, the crickets made sure that the whole island got what it needed— without them, everything that couldn't move would slowly wither and everything that could would be forced to flee. For the stewards of the life-giving rain to do as they did without so much as a 'thanks' didn't make any sense.

Now, spread out as the island's creatures were, most of the reds had ventured off a ways away. They didn't have a chance to hear a word of this. However, a majority of the blues that did hop up atop the tall grasses to listen agreed one-hundred percent. The group grew and grew.

Appreciation. It's a nice word. It has a lot of syllables. But what did it actually mean?

Every cricket seemed to have his or her own special idea. Still, all of the talking and talking just led to more agreeing and agreeing. Parties? With dancing? With laughing? More? Before too long, what was basically an army had shown up at the doorstep of the hornets.

The hornets? They were the only type of creature that Avalon had that mostly kept to themselves. Oh, that's not much of an answer. Well, think of how when you have two of the same ends of a magnet come together they keep bouncing off of each other. Even if they're just vaguely close together, you sense this invisible force. That was how things usually wound up between the hornets and everybody else.

Now, the hornets rarely liked anything. The biggest of them all, usually just known as Yellow, was no exception. And it always was sure that it was right. The sad part, though, was that what it ended up hating the most always seemed to fail. That didn't mean that Yellow's opinion of itself was right, but it did make the horrible creature worth listening to from time to time.

"Appreciation?" Yellow repeated. It paused. It jumped out of the old tree trunk that it had rested inside with a few of its cronies— if the trunk were a face, the scene looked like a big wooden being shooting a wad of black and yellow striped snot out of his nose. "What for?"

The crowd felt astonished. Several creatures began to explain to Yellow everything that I'd already told you. The horrible thing waved all that away.

"It's not a surprise that this comes from the blues. Bah. They're useless anyways."

The confused looks on the faces of the crickets were matched by all of their companions. Butterflies scratched their heads. Flies stopped flying in their twisted circles and sailed gently to the ground.

"Come on, think for once," declared another hornet, "what's even the point of having a light rain, here and there? It'd be so much better to just have a huge downpour, every once and a while. Save the effort and time. Think about it."

So many of the crowd members hadn't thought of it before. The claim seemed reasonable enough. After all, so many things that get done in little chunks can also be finished in one fell swoop. The fact that the hornets all looked and sounded so incredibly confident just made it all seem more convincing.

"Frankly," Yellow remarked, ramping up the arrogance in its terrible voice, "I don't see why we have any of the blues at all. We're scheduled for a light drizzle about now, aren't we? Forget them. Bring some of those reds here for a real performance."

Now, I'll spare you the bits of argument that immediately followed. What matters is what happened. Suffice to say that ol' Yellow wound up winning. It's not that the hornets made a particularly good argument, but the rest of the creatures felt less and less willing to fight back the more they pressed their points. I'd like to say that the crickets nearby, feeling dejected, simply left to head home.

The truth is truly worse. The hornets bullied them so much that they fled over to the island's northern corner where the jagged rocks stood, having a peaceful moment to be alone and to think. Leading the steadily growing crowd over to where the reds, blissfully unaware of what had just happened, gathered in central Avalon, the hornets felt more smug by the second.

The exact middle of the island had one of the most beautiful fields that any living being could ever set eyes on. And, that fateful evening, a huge group of Avalon's creatures gathered together their eyes, ears, noses, tails, and the rest of them to that same field. Yellow was in command. That was, in its twisted mind, as it always should have been.

"I've got an idea," one of the hornets suddenly called out.

"That we have the rains right now?" another replied in just a second.

"Of course!"

"Reds! Summon a real downpour!" Yellow declared.

The crickets there felt surprised, for sure, to have such a scene before them. They felt far from interested in listening to the creepy hornets. Yet a coming rain was already on the schedule, after all, and they wound up deciding to oblige the honest request. Sure enough, the orchestra of strong, powerful sounds stirred up a set of growing winds.

In a matter of seconds, dark clouds had popped up across the sky. Several butterflies clumping together behind the hornets appeared nervous. Yet most of the creatures looked in good spirits. Drops began pitter-pattering across the arrays of thick branches towering overhead.

"No, not like whatever piddly nonsense you all pulled last month! I mean a serious downpour! It's such a waste to do this over and over again, isn't it?"

Many still felt quite confused. A big cluster of termites in particular gathered before the hornets, swirling around in circles upon the grass. Yellow triumphantly waved its arms.

"Rain the rain that we need for a whole year! Get it done right now! That way, for sure, there's nothing to worry about for the longest time!"

It was only at that moment that the crickets realized what the army of creatures had in mind. Now, I'd like to tell you that they all let out a loud cry of protest and hopped away. I'd like to say that it rained a good several hours, soaking the whole middle of the island, before the skies cleared up.

Yet that wouldn't be the truth. Were I a cricket, which is a question that a somebody doesn't get to ask just about everyday, I doubt I'd have the courage and resolve when I had walls upon walls of my neighbors crowding around me. The hornets had this way of forcing their opinions down everybody else's throats, and the easiest thing to do was to just let them get their way.

Thick waves of darkness surged across the sky. Blasts of chill wind battered the tiny creatures. The rain itself, droplets growing bigger and bigger by the second, smashed down upon the ground. The weather seemed never ending.

The switch from sheer joy to deep worry and finally to outright panic happened in different ways for different creatures. The butterflies hoped that they could simply fly away, but the gusts flipped them about every which way second by second. A great many insects tried to bury straight down. That did them little good as the surging waters pooled upon the soil.

The hornets? Well, they loved it for a while. I wish I could tell you that their pangs of realization finally did hit them, and hit them hard, as the storms became nightmarish. I wish I could say that they screamed out for help or even made some noise of remorse. Yet none of that would be the truth.

The hornets only yelled out in absolute fear for a split-second. They realized their folly far too late. It was right as the island was washed away.

Oh, I'm sure that you're wondering what exactly that entails. What kind of damage was done by the next morning? Were there upturned trees, smashed bushes, heavy stones scattered about everywhere, and more? I'm afraid that when I say 'washed away', I mean it. 

Avalon once was. And then it was no more. As land once existed above the sea, so did it get covered by waves of waves of water to where it finally sank back into the sea.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-

"Hey, the power's back!" Stu Hopps yelled, sticking an arm out.

"That's fantastic," the lanky rabbit remarked, jumping away from Nick.

"So, you guys get the lesson?" Nick asked, slowly standing up.

"Hornets are bad news, yes," a pair of twins interjected.

"That's not," Nick muttered, feeling surprised, " _exactly_ what I had in mind. I-"

"It's like my parents always told me, 'Hornets are Satan's farts!' I know!" A particular fat bunny grabbed his ears and pulled them to the front. "A bunch of them tried to rip my brains out last week when I was picking the lettuce!"

"Oh, wow," Nick sputtered out, leaning over to where the bunny sat.

"Hey, all of you! The snacks are here!" Stu called out.

Sheer joy surged across the little rabbits' faces. All of them immediately hopped away from Nick, their tails twitching as they sped across the living room. The fox took in a little breath, feeling at a loss with his mind still filled with fantasy, and tried to stand up. Meanwhile, the bunnies crowded around the gleeful older rabbit.

"Like I said before, there's only a few carrot cupcakes there right now," Stu said, "the important thing is: now's the time to make the cookies!"

Nick half-collapsed, realizing that his legs had fallen asleep. The fox clutched the nearby bookshelves and pulled himself upright. He glanced over at Stu and the two exchanged pleasant nods. Nick thought that even if he hadn't quite finished the story, he still had conveyed at least some kind of a moral while keeping the little ones from being too bored.

Meanwhile, just two rooms away, the group of younger rabbits hopped all about the kitchen. The young ones haphazardly shoved ingredients across the counters as various paws stretched out to grab different utensils. The lanky rabbit that'd sat next to Nick stopped, her face buried in a big recipe book, and frantically waved at her cousins behind her.

"I found the right section. It says: bake them for 20 minutes at 300 degrees."

"Awwwwwwwwww," a pair of short, stout bunnies covered in upturned pots and pans moaned, "that's like _forever!_ "

"What would Nick do?" asked the tiniest rabbit in the bunch, her paws stuck in a massive whisk.

"Great question," sounded off a group of the little ones. Determined looks flashed across their faces. However, it seemed to take a long moment before they pieced together what exactly that would mean.

"Hey, I got it!"

"What?"

"Nick would cook them for 10 minutes at 600 degrees!"

"No! At 1200 degrees for 5 minutes!"

_"Brilliant!"_

Meanwhile, light smatterings of rain drizzled just outside. Stu tapped the fox's shoulder and ducked out to the nearby bathroom. Nick sauntered slowly in the direction of the kitchen, at profound peace with the world for a moment. The sound of an unfamiliar noise went in one year and out the other. The fox idly glanced out the window, and he made a big smile as he spied a pair of crickets hopping about the covered flowerpots.

Nick's smile... twisted into a dark grimace of fear as he saw and smelled the thick smoke coming out of the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks very much for reading!
> 
> This piece was created for the recurring 'Thematic Thursday' event, with various things being made on the topic of fantasy. I wanted to make something more inflated and whimsical than what I've generally written. I also aimed for a more family-friendly approach in the style. Please let me know if you have any criticisms, ideas, worries, or anything of the sort, and thank you once again for looking at it.


End file.
